“What is all this about?” said Annie Brooke, who entered the room at that moment.
“Oh, we were talking business.”
“I beg your pardon. Shall I go away?”
“No, don’t, Miss Brooke,” said Lady Lushington rather crossly; “you are really wanted here to help to clear matters. Seeing that I am honoured by the possession of so clever a niece as Mabel, I wish she would not on every possible occasion act the fool. She is as stupid over this outrageous bill as though she were an infant.”
“Well, Mabel,” said Annie, “you know quite well that you had some nice dresses, hadn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Mabel, who seemed to have a wonderful amount of added courage now that Annie had appeared on the scene. Then she nimbly quoted a description of the beautiful gowns which Annie had falsely described the day before.
“Most unsuitable for a schoolgirl,” said Lady Lushington. “And where are they, may I ask?”
“Oh, I—I—left them at school,” said Mabel.
“Worse and worse; you seem to have lost your head.”
“Poor May!” said Annie; “no wonder. You must know, Lady Lushington, that after your letter came May nearly worked herself into a fever to get that literature prize. She could think of nothing else. She did so long to be with you; didn’t you, May?”